


The Curious Case of the Bracknell Emeralds

by regshoe



Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung, The Importance of Being Earnest - Wilde
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humour, minor appearances by Raffles/Bunny and Algernon/Cecily, slightly silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 10:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15604425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regshoe/pseuds/regshoe
Summary: Raffles, attempting to steal an emerald necklace from the notorious Lady Bracknell, finds himself dealing with a stickier wicket than he anticipated; while Algernon Moncrieff discovers an entirely new form of Bunburying.





	The Curious Case of the Bracknell Emeralds

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place shortly before the events of 'The Importance of Being Earnest'.

‘Bunny, you know Mr Worthing, don’t you?’

Bunny glanced up again from the newspaper he had been idly pretending to peruse. ‘Who?’

‘The fellow in B.4, just down the hall—the one who’s always gallivanting off to Shropshire on some business or other—I’m sure you’ve met him.’

‘Oh, yes, I believe I know who you mean. Why?’

Raffles stood up from the sofa and lit a Sullivan, with a sly smile that was only too familiar to his friend. ‘This morning, Bunny, before you arrived, I had a most illuminating conversation with Mr Worthing. I believe he may be able to provide us with a way out of our present financial difficulties.’

Bunny lowered the newspaper. ‘Raffles, you haven’t sunk to the level of planning to burgle your own neighbours!’

This was met with a raised eyebrow and a cold stare. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ said Raffles with a rather pointed mildness of tone. ‘I merely meant that Mr Worthing has turned out to be a useful source of information regarding a little idea which I have been turning over for the last few weeks.’

This time, Bunny was closer to the mark. ‘The Bracknell emeralds!’ (Raffles had been quite eloquent on the subject of these jewels—the property of a rich Society lady with rather a formidable reputation—at dinner the previous night).

‘Mmm. It appears that Mr Worthing is an acquaintance of Lady Bracknell’s—I believe the lady’s daughter is involved in the question—and he has been furnishing me with some valuable information on her upcoming plans.’

Bunny put aside the newspaper and rose to face him. ‘And what have you learnt?’

‘Besides a few useful particulars of the house’s layout—Mr Worthing is a very talkative fellow when asked the right questions, and not in the least suspicious—information on the best time to venture the thing. It appears that the jewels are rather heavily guarded at ordinary times, and her ladyship’s maid sleeps but lightly in the next room, so that a night visit is out of the question; however, her ladyship is planning a dinner party for next Tuesday in which the whole household will be sufficiently busy to give me an opportunity. Mr Worthing particularly told me he believes that she won’t wear the necklace—since she has invited him, it couldn’t possibly be a grand enough affair, were his exact words—so there it will be, safely locked away in her dressing-room while she and all other inhabitants of the house are at dinner. The ideal opportunity; quite the cliché, in fact.’

Bunny’s face had fallen while listening to this speech. ‘But next Tuesday is just when I’m going down to St Albans. I shan’t be able to come with you.’ (A certain editor, greatly admiring Mr Manders’s talent for vivid description, had commissioned him to write a piece on the history of the cathedral, and he had been looking forward to the visit for some time).

Raffles clapped him on the shoulder. ‘No, my dear rabbit, and I’m very sorry to have to go without your support; but it looks as though I should be able to manage the thing on my own, and you shall see the reward just as soon as you return.’

*

At half-past seven on the following Tuesday evening, Mr Ernest Worthing left the Albany, walking briskly in the cool evening air. At five minutes past eight, Raffles followed.

The party, small affair that it was, turned out a tolerable success. Mr Worthing was pleased to find himself seated next to Miss Fairfax, and almost as pleased to see his (excellent, but somewhat unreliable) friend Mr Moncrieff several places down on the other side of the table, safely out of earshot. At one point he glanced in Lady Bracknell’s direction and was reminded for a moment of his conversation the other day with that Mr Raffles at the Albany—hadn’t he predicted then that she would abandon the famous emerald necklace on which Mr Raffles (who had a reputation as something of an aesthete, so the interest was quite understandable) had been so keen, in favour of some more simple outfit? it was just as he had said—until a whispered remark from Gwendolen put the thought quite out of his head, where it remained for the rest of the meal.

It was not until perhaps ten minutes after the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing room that the fortunes of Mr Worthing’s evening began to take a turn in the other direction. With the freedom of movement which the drawing room afforded, Algernon Moncrieff could no longer be so easily avoided, and now he withdrew from the small knot of people who had gathered around him to hear the series of increasingly improbable humorous anecdotes with which he had been entertaining himself for the last several minutes, and approached Mr Worthing. ‘Ernest, my dear boy,’ he said in an undertone, glancing over his shoulder, ‘you wouldn’t mind doing something to distract Aunt Augusta while I excuse myself for a few minutes, would you?’

Ernest (so we will call him, although the real situation may be somewhat otherwise; that is a tale for another time) raised his eyebrows. ‘What do you want a distraction for? Simply go and do whatever it is you want to do; I’m sure you can explain it to her ladyship yourself.’

‘Only that the thing is rather delicate, and I don’t want to make a fuss if it turns out to be nothing. I heard a strange noise in the corridor, or somewhere in that direction,’ (he indicated the corner of the room in which he had been standing), ‘and I want to go and investigate.’

The eyebrows climbed half an inch higher. ‘A noise?’

‘Yes, it was certainly a noise; as of someone moving surreptitiously about the place looking for the silver spoons, or some such thing.’

‘My dear fellow, you have a terribly overactive imagination. A noise of looking for spoons, indeed! It could have been anything.’

‘Well, I don’t pretend to know what weird horrors might lurk in the depths of Aunt Augusta’s house, but seriously, it might be burglars, and if so I have a solemn duty to rout them out and haul them off to the nearest police station, which I am determined to fulfil.’ He set his face in a decisive and heroic manner, looking, for all the absurdity of his words, more serious than Ernest had often known him.

Ernest considered this for a few moments, and then said, ‘Well, I think you’re being highly unreasonable—it’s probably just the servants clearing away the things from dinner, or something—but go if you must, and I’ll talk to Lady Bracknell.’

Algernon’s serious expression immediately gave way to a delighted smile—he had evidently got some idea into his head about surprising a roomful of dastardly burglars and becoming the hero of the hour—and he turned to go, saying, ‘Thanks awfully. I’ll return as soon as I can.’

*

Three rooms away, quite another scene was playing out.

The dressing-room was in darkness, and the neat, orderly furniture stood in perfect stillness, save for a slight breeze blowing from the open window. It was silent, but it was not the silence of an empty room in which there is simply no one to make any noise; it was a living, purposeful silence, as of someone trying deliberately and quite successfully to avoid making any. It was a silence that had eyes.

Crouching in front of the safe, hidden by the shadow of a tall dresser placed opposite the window, the man had been entirely invisible; but now he stood up, and the moonlight glinted on his black hair and along one side of the equally black mask fastened round his face. The door of the safe was open, and he held a plain, round jewel-case; quite a small thing, not much bigger than the hand that held it. He prised the lid of the case open a crack, and the moonlight glinted on something else—but that was all he needed to see, and a moment later he had slipped the case into the inside pocket of his jacket and turned in the direction of the window, where a hook and trailing rope were just visible hanging over the sill.

Something broke the silence—a step outside? He had locked the door when he came in, but it was as well to be away before they found that out; he hastened his step towards the window.

Not fast enough. The silence was again disturbed, for a moment, by the sound of a key turning in a lock, and then the door flew open.

‘Aha!’ said the young man who stood framed in the doorway, and then, ‘Well, but—I say!’ Attempting to take advantage of his surprise, the man in the black mask had made one last desperate dash for the window; but Algernon was too quick for him.

‘Alright,’ said the burglar after the brief struggle that followed. ‘It’s a fair cop.’

‘I should hope so,’ said Algernon, attempting to tie the man’s hands with his handkerchief. ‘Now, I don’t want to be unreasonable—I’ll have to hand you over to the police, of course, you understand, but really I have some sympathy for you trying to burgle Aunt Augusta, I’m not overly fond of her myself, and that was a clever trick your locking the door on the inside so I wouldn’t be able to get in—in any case, I hope you’ll cooperate, I really don’t want to be more unpleasant about this than I have to be.’

‘Yeah. Course. I’ll come quietly.’

Algernon turned on the electric light and looked round the room. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘that safe door is open, so I suppose you’ve already taken the loot. Will you hand it over?’

The burglar nodded over his shoulder, indicating why he could not do what Algernon asked, but said, ‘It’s in my left pocket,’ and Algernon, on searching his jacket, soon found the necklace. 

He took it out of the case and tutted sadly to himself. ‘Delusions of grandeur. It’s all the same with you criminal fellows; you think that crime will be your path to fame and fortune, will enable you to live like a king without a care in the world, but it’s simply an illusion; you’ll all end up the same way, you know. Now I, on the other hand…’

Raffles, for his part, regarded the intruder with some puzzlement. It was hardly what he had expected—but the knots around his wrists were far from expertly done, and if he could keep this odd young man talking for long enough, then…

‘…I will admit, have not always been entirely honest myself, but the difference between me and you is that I know where to draw the line. I know the dangers that a life of crime must bring, and I stand on the side of justice, and—’

Perhaps Algernon had been slightly surprised at finding a real burglar in the house, and was babbling a little for want of really knowing what to do; however, at this point, the door, which had stood ajar since Algernon had appeared, opened again, and Ernest Worthing entered the room. ‘Algy, what are you—good heavens!’ he said.

‘You’ll see my judgement wasn’t so absurd after all, Ernest,’ said Algernon happily.

‘No, indeed… I must apologise, old chap. You’ve sent someone for the police, of course.’

‘Not yet, as a matter of fact,’ said Algernon. ‘I was just giving this fellow a bit of useful advice on his career choices—got caught up in the excitement of the moment, I suppose.’

‘Well, I’ll go and find a servant—may as well see who we’re dealing with first, I suppose.’ He pulled the burglar’s mask from his face, and instantly gave an exclamation at such a volume that Algernon entreated him to keep it down, they didn’t want to alert the whole house and send the other guests into a panic.

‘But it’s Raffles!’ he protested.

‘Who?’

‘A. J. Raffles!’ He gestured hopelessly towards Raffles, who was keeping a carefully blank face.

‘A. J. Raffles… oh, the cricketer? No, you must be mistaken, this chap is quite a Cockney rascal, he couldn’t—’

‘I don’t care what sort of cricket he plays, or what accent he may have decided to put on! I haven’t mistaken who he is! He is my _neighbour_ , and he was talking to me only the other day about this very party—you were, you don’t deny it!’ This last was addressed to Raffles, who, with no alternative available, inclined his head in acknowledgement of the fact. ‘Good gracious, I believe I actually told him I expected that Lady Bracknell wouldn’t wear her necklace tonight. I must have put the idea into his head!’

As this speech went on, Algernon’s face had been slowly assuming a look of wide-eyed amazement. ‘Ernest, my dear fellow, do you mean to say—no, you may tell me yourself,’ he said, turning to face Raffles. ‘Do you, or rather does Ernest, mean to imply that A. J. Raffles, the renowned cricketer and resident, alongside my friend here, of the Albany, is secretly a jewel thief?’

‘That is right,’ said Raffles; once recognised, there was little point in denying it.

‘Utterly incredible,’ said Algernon slowly, grinning as though all the stolen diamonds of London had come into his possession. ‘The most remarkable thing I’ve heard in a long time—I say, it wasn’t you who burgled those Criminologist chaps while they were at their dinner last year, was it? I thought at the time that was rather a good joke.’

‘I—couldn’t possibly comment on my past successes, whatever they may or may not have been.’

‘Now, Algernon, look here—’ said Ernest, but Algernon ignored him.

‘Oh, of course not, my apologies. But I must say, I believe this is the best bit of Bunburying I’ve ever seen! That is to say,’ (for Raffles, despite the careful composure, had frowned at this strange word), ‘I take something of an interest in fictions by which people contrive to live what you might call a double life, and your example must be one of the most perfect I’ve ever seen. It is as though you had become your own Bunbury, without any recourse to an alternate name or a secret habitation; rather, that A. J. Raffles, the celebrated and entirely respectable gentleman cricketer, allows A. J. Raffles, the brilliant cracksman, to hide as it were in plain sight. Wonderful!’ He was getting rather poetic again. (Ernest had turned pale and drawn away slightly at the mention of double lives, and remained silent throughout the rest of the speech, making no protest.)

‘I’m… glad you appreciate it,’ said Raffles, slightly taken aback but willing to follow this unusual conversation where it led. He had undone the handkerchief around his wrists some minutes ago, and at this point thought it safe to pull his hands free and stand up. ‘I must admit it isn’t quite what I expect when I am caught in the act—and this is not the first time that has happened—and you have my grateful thanks for making the affair a far more pleasant and interesting experience than it usually is.’

‘Appreciate it—my dear fellow, it is a marvel. I ought to thank you—in fact, I congratulate you.’ And he shook Raffles’s hand vigorously, apparently unconscious of the disappearance of the handkerchief.

‘To turn the conversation to more practical matters,’ said Raffles, ‘I must take my leave soon—don’t want to stop up here while there are still guests downstairs, you know, it’s something of a risk.’

‘Of course, I quite understa—’

‘Hold on!’ Ernest had recovered his composure. ‘Algernon, you don’t mean to say you’re simply going to let him go?’

‘Ernest, my dear fellow.’ Algernon laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and in patient tones continued, ‘I won’t hear of handing him in to the police. He is an artist—a wonder—and, as long as he doesn’t attempt to steal anything from _me_ —you won’t, will you?’

‘Perish the thought.’

‘—I cannot do otherwise than leave him at liberty to continue in his art. Gentleman’s honour, you know.’

Ernest looked from one to the other of them, and came to a decision. ‘Very well, then,’ he said with a sigh. ‘You may go; and, Algy, I hadn’t anything to do with this. I came looking for you when you disappeared from the drawing room, but I never found you. Understand?’

‘Of course, of course. Here you go, then, my dear fellow; I’ve half a mind to give you back the necklace, you’ve earnt it quite admirably, and I’d love to see the look on Aunt Augusta’s face—’

‘No, one moment, that’s quite enough!’ said Ernest, who, after the divers strains and trials of the evening, had reached something of a breaking point at last. He took Algernon’s arm, drew him aside, and spoke in a low but determined tone. ‘Algernon, you are my dear friend, you know that; and, for your sake, I am willing to run the risk that Lady Bracknell—the mother, I’m sure I needn’t remind you, of the girl whom I adore—may find out that I allowed a man attempting to burgle her to go free. I am not willing to risk her finding out that I allowed him to abscond with her most valued jewellery. You will _not_ give him back the emeralds.’

Algernon raised his eyebrows. ‘Quite so, quite so,’ he said, mildly. ‘I wasn’t thinking of the thing. I may be a very modern young scoundrel entirely lacking in morals, but I’m not quite devoid of a sense of decency. I don’t much care for the emeralds for their own sake, I don’t mind saying, but Aunt Augusta’s property is her own; and it is safe under my watch, I assure you.’

‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ said Ernest, somewhat chastened. ‘Now, I really must return to the drawing room before her ladyship notices anything amiss—I shall tell her that I went in search of you but _didn’t find you_ —and I’ll leave you to say your goodbyes to this—’

Here he stopped, for he had turned around to face towards Raffles; but no Raffles remained in the room. There was only the cool night breeze blowing in through the open window.

Algernon began to laugh. ‘Oh, a fine thing—he slips away from under our very noses! Well, there’s no harm done, for I still have the necklace. Look, you’d better get back, old chap.’ He clapped Ernest on the back, and Ernest, thinking that the scene had at least ended in a vaguely satisfactory manner, hurried from the room.

Algernon, left alone, wandered over to the window and looked out. It was a wonderfully clear night for London, the stars shining high overhead, and nothing to show that there had ever been anyone near the window, much less climbing down from it. Yes, he was a marvellously clever fellow… hadn’t Ernest said he lived at the Albany? He must look him up some day; it would be an acquaintance well worth cultivating.

Turning from the window, Algernon slipped a hand into his jacket pocket, to make sure that the emeralds were indeed safe where he had left them; and his expression altered.

The pocket was as empty as the room before him.

*

Lane entered the room with rather a harassed look about him. ‘Mr Worthing to see you, s—’

At this point he was interrupted by Ernest storming past him, and decided that the best course of action was to withdraw strategically and close the door; Algernon, stretched out on the sofa reading a novel, a plate of little sandwiches on the table at his side, looked up with some interest.

‘What,’ said Ernest, his voice carefully level, ‘does all this mean, Algernon?’

‘All this?’ said Algernon cheerfully, laying down his novel. ‘Oh, my aunt has missed the emeralds at last, has she? Well, I hope you’re not going to suspect me of being at fault in the affair, dear chap, because I really was quite sure they were safe in my pocket until after you left the room. Look, do sit down,’ he added, making room on the sofa.

Ernest sat down, and stared at him. It was not until some moments had passed that he said, slowly and with an air of picking his words carefully, ‘Algy—please tell me, quite clearly, what happened after I left the room last night.’

‘I’m sorry, I had thought you’d worked it out by now. What happened was, very simply, that I felt in my pocket for the necklace and discovered it gone. Our friend had succeeded in his quest after all. Have a sandwich.’

Ernest ignored the proffered sandwich. ‘You are quite sure of that? He made off with the necklace?’

‘Oh, yes. A wonderful trick, I thought.’

Instead of making a reply to this, Ernest silently reached a hand into his pocket and took from it the emerald necklace.

Algernon looked from his face to the emeralds and back again in mute astonishment.

‘I found them this morning,’ said Ernest, ‘in a drawer of my dressing-table at the Albany. I had supposed that you were playing some awful trick on me—but if you lost them—’

Algernon, whose smile had been growing wider throughout this speech, now burst into laughter. ‘Oh, but this is the perfect final touch! I do believe I underestimated him, in all my admiration. Thank you for showing me, dear fellow.’

Ernest, meanwhile, was looking thoughtful. ‘You say that her ladyship must have discovered the theft by now?’

‘I rather think so, yes.’

‘Well, in that case, you and I ought to go and give her these back, and reveal the truth about last night; as much as that we know who the culprit is, at least.’

The laughter vanished from Algernon’s face. ‘Now, why in the world,’ he said, ‘would we want to do that?’

‘Come now, Algy; it’s one thing to cover up an attempted burglary in the course of foiling it, but quite another to persist in a lie when she knows the necklace was taken.’

‘I don’t see that,’ said Algernon. ‘We have the necklace, we can return it to her, that is quite all right; and in any case I don’t intend to give the fellow away, now or at any other time. No lasting harm has been done, after all, so you may keep your conscience quite clear.’ Observing that Ernest still looked unconvinced, he added, ‘And Aunt Augusta has your word for it that you did not find me or anything else when you went to investigate the sound of possible burglars last night. At the moment, I rather think she will be grateful to both of us for attempting to stop what turned out to be a real theft, unsuccessful as we were. Consider for a moment: would she feel so charitably inclined towards you if, in the process of betraying Raffles, you admitted, as you must do, that you not only allowed him to get away, but lied about it afterwards?’

‘…No, I must admit I had not considered the situation from that angle.’

Algernon glanced at the sandwich he had been going to give to Ernest, saw that it was still in his hand, and took a bite. ‘Would she, you think,’ he added, ‘look so favourably upon your courtship of the Honourable Miss Fairfax?’

To this, no reply was necessary.

After some moments, during which Algernon went on munching his sandwich unconcernedly, Ernest began, rather carefully, ‘I suppose there is also the problem of how to return the necklace; I can hardly admit the truth there, after all. But… if I were to find it in some hidden place in the garden, where it had doubtless been accidentally dropped by the unknown burglars in making their escape…’

Algernon nodded along to this, his smile returning. ‘A very wise plan, my friend. Well, I’m glad we’re agreed. We’ll say no more about the thing, and consider the slight deception simply in the light of a price worth paying for a highly interesting adventure.’

*

‘And that, my dear Bunny, is the true story of the night I took Lady Bracknell’s emeralds.’

Bunny, his face a picture of abject horror, would have leapt to his feet had it not been for Raffles’s head lying in his lap. ‘But—you mean to say that all this time there have been two persons at large in London who know your secret—and who know that you stole the necklace! Raffles, you never told me—all you said at the time was that you hadn’t been successful! Isn’t this a terrible risk?’

‘Now, it’s quite all right.’ He sat up, twisted round on the sofa and took Bunny’s hand in both his own. ‘We’ve nothing to worry about. I only kept it from you because, at the time, Mr Worthing was still living just down the corridor and, well, my darling rabbit, you have always rather given your thoughts away on that lovely countenance of yours. I wasn’t quite sure of Mr Worthing at first, and I was afraid you might do something to upset the delicate diplomatic relations between us if you knew. But there was never any cause for worry, really; and he had nothing to complain of once I returned the jewels, after all.’

‘Well, that’s a relief,’ said Bunny, relaxing back onto the sofa cushions. ‘Still, it was a terrible risk to run.’

‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ said Raffles, with a lazy smile. ‘And, in any case,’ he continued as he settled his head on Bunny’s shoulder, ‘I believe the other chap, Algernon Moncrieff, would have stopped him. He seemed really rather taken with my methods.’

‘I can’t think why anyone would be,’ murmured Bunny, smiling.

‘Mmm. A strange fellow, but harmless. You know, I met him up at Lord’s the other day; he was there with his new bride. We had quite a pleasant chat about this scheme of his that he calls Bunburying, and I think the question of giving secrets away is perfectly settled. I must introduce you some time, Bunny.’

*

‘And that, my dear Cecily, is the true story of the night Lady Bracknell’s emeralds were stolen.’

Cecily gazed up at him from her armchair, eyes wide with amazed delight. ‘That was wonderful, Algernon,’ she said, ‘quite a marvellous piece of invention! Why, it’s almost the equal of the time you pretended to be Ernest Worthing. I am and always shall be flattered at the lengths of involved falsehood you will go to in order to prove your love for me—even besmirching the character of a friend, whom I thought an entirely unobjectionable young man when we met him the other day, and a fine cricketer. It’s completely unnecessary, of course, for you know my heart belongs to you; but what in true romance is other than superfluous?’

Algernon was slightly taken aback at this speech. ‘My darling, I will admit that I have not always been perfectly truthful; but this story was entirely so. That is, I might have embellished a few details, but the main substance of the thing is true.’

At this she laughed aloud. ‘Oh, Algernon, you cannot deceive me so easily as that now. I am grown wise since the days of “brother Ernest”. But I meant what I said before; it’s a wonderfully dramatic story; your talent for invention is unequalled. I will certainly recount it in my diary at the earliest opportunity.’

‘Oh, well, if that’s what you think—thank you very much, my dear. I do pride myself on my dramatic talents.’ He bent down and kissed her on the cheek.

Cecily smiled to herself. ‘Do you know, it’s so good, I might even repeat it to Mr Raffles the next time we meet him. I should so like to see his reaction to your idea of an entertaining story.’

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I should really make some sort of pun on E. W. Hornung's first name at this point...


End file.
